عَمَّ يَتَسَٓاءَلُونَۚ The sūrah opens inside a conversation already underway. The opening question confronts people disputing the resurrection in doubt and mockery. The next two verses name what is at stake: عَنِ النَّبَاِ الْعَظ۪يمِۙ اَلَّذ۪ي هُمْ ف۪يهِ مُخْتَلِفُونَۜ Their disagreement does not make the news uncertain. Al-Mursalāt had just ended by asking what message they would believe after this. Al-Nabaʾ follows that question with people disputing the resurrection the Qur’an announces.

Then the address changes. The opening spoke of them; now the Lord speaks to you: اَلَمْ نَجْعَلِ الْاَرْضَ مِهَادًاۙ وَالْجِبَالَ اَوْتَادًاۖ وَخَلَقْنَاكُمْ اَزْوَاجًاۙ One interrogative governs the catalogue: did We not? The earth is not merely present; it has been made a resting-place. The mountains are set like pegs. Human beings themselves are created in pairs, male and female. Elsewhere, the Qur’an speaks of mountains being firmly set so that the earth does not sway, and of their anchoring after the earth is spread. What holds their world steady has itself been placed by God.

The making continues through the daily surrender and recovery of human life: وَجَعَلْنَا نَوْمَكُمْ سُبَاتًاۙ وَجَعَلْنَا الَّيْلَ لِبَاسًاۙ وَجَعَلْنَا النَّهَارَ مَعَاشًاۖ Sleep cuts activity off; night covers; day opens the field of livelihood. The interruption of waking life is itself a provision for life. Elsewhere the Qur’an again joins night and sleep, then speaks of the day as a time of rising again. Another verse says that God takes people by night and raises them by day before their final return to Him, when He will tell them what they did. Ordinary waking is thus both mercy and rehearsal. Those who dispute the greater awakening already undergo a small restoration every morning.

The gaze then rises and descends. وَبَنَيْنَا فَوْقَكُمْ سَبْعًا شِدَادًاۙ وَجَعَلْنَا سِرَاجًا وَهَّاجًاۖ Above the hearers are seven firmly built heavens and the sun, a blazing lamp. Then abundant water comes down from rain-bearing clouds: وَاَنْزَلْنَا مِنَ الْمُعْصِرَاتِ مَٓاءً ثَجَّاجًاۙ Its purpose is stated—لِنُخْرِجَ بِه۪ حَبًّا وَنَبَاتًاۙ وَجَنَّاتٍ اَلْفَافًاۜ—so that grain, vegetation, and densely entwined gardens may be brought out. The sequence moves from built heavens to descending water to life emerging from earth. Qāf makes the connection explicit: God revives lifeless land with rain, then declares that human beings will likewise be brought forth from death. The One who gives life to the earth and wakes the sleeper can raise the dead.

The signs of God’s power lead to the appointed Day: اِنَّ يَوْمَ الْفَصْلِ كَانَ م۪يقَاتًاۙ The people differ; the Day separates. Al-Naḥl answers those who swear that God will not raise the dead: He will raise them to make clear the truth over which they differ, and those who denied it will know that they were lying. Their disagreement will be resolved by the very resurrection they dispute. Here that resolution has an appointed time.

At the trumpet, يَوْمَ يُنْفَخُ فِي الصُّورِ فَتَأْتُونَ اَفْوَاجًاۙ—you will come in groups. The people addressed through the signs of creation are now addressed as those summoned to the gathering. Al-Zumar shows what follows the gathering and judgment: groups are driven toward Hell and groups are led toward the Garden. Here too, the gathering will lead to sharply different destinations.

The world they have known is transformed: وَفُتِحَتِ السَّمَٓاءُ فَكَانَتْ اَبْوَابًاۙ وَسُيِّرَتِ الْجِبَالُ فَكَانَتْ سَرَابًاۜ The firmly built sky opens into doorways; the mountains once called pegs become like a mirage, no longer the solid masses they had been. What appeared immovable proves temporary. What they treated as doubtful proves appointed and true.

اِنَّ جَهَنَّمَ كَانَتْ مِرْصَادًاۙ Hell is described as lying in wait for the transgressors. Al-Fajr uses the same image to warn that wrongdoing does not escape the Lord’s reckoning. For the transgressors it is لِلطَّاغ۪ينَ مَاٰبًاۙ—a return. The destination fits the life of transgression. لَابِث۪ينَ ف۪يهَٓا اَحْقَابًاۚ gives successive ages of remaining: one age follows another, without the promise of a last age after which they will leave.

The torment offers no relief: لَا يَذُوقُونَ ف۪يهَا بَرْدًا وَلَا شَرَابًاۙ اِلَّا حَم۪يمًا وَغَسَّاقًاۙ They taste neither coolness nor drink, except boiling water and the foul discharge of Hell’s inhabitants. In the world described earlier, rest and water sustained human life. Here there is no cooling relief, and drink itself becomes torment. جَزَٓاءً وِفَاقًا names this “a fitting recompense.” The severity of the punishment corresponds to their deeds, as the next verses explain.

Why is the recompense fitting? اِنَّهُمْ كَانُوا لَا يَرْجُونَ حِسَابًاۙ They neither anticipated nor feared being called to account for their deeds. The joyful recipient of the record elsewhere says the opposite: he expected to meet his account. The transgressors’ denial is emphatic—وَكَذَّبُوا بِاٰيَاتِنَا كِذَّابًاۜ—yet denial has removed nothing from the record: وَكُلَّ شَيْءٍ اَحْصَيْنَاهُ كِتَابًا Nothing is too small or too great to be present. Then description turns into sentence: فَذُوقُوا فَلَنْ نَز۪يدَكُمْ اِلَّا عَذَابًا۟ “They will know” has become “taste.” They are told to expect no relief, only further punishment.

The promise to the Godfearing begins with deliverance: اِنَّ لِلْمُتَّق۪ينَ مَفَازًاۙ Āl ʿImrān names success as being moved away from the Fire and admitted into the Garden. Here that escape is followed by the gifts of the life into which they are welcomed.

حَدَٓائِقَ وَاَعْنَابًاۙ وَكَوَاعِبَ اَتْرَابًاۙ وَكَأْسًا دِهَاقًاۜ Gardens and grapes, young women in the fullness of womanhood and of equal age, and a brimming cup. Earthly gardens have already displayed His provision; here gardens are part of the promised reward. The brimming cup stands in clear contrast to the drink that torments the transgressors.

The promise extends to what they hear: لَا يَسْمَعُونَ ف۪يهَا لَغْوًا وَلَا كِذَّابًاۚ The final word recalls the emphatic denial of 78:28, but here they hear neither idle speech nor anyone accusing another of falsehood. Al-Wāqiʿah gives the positive counterpart: greetings of peace pass among them. Freedom from false and hurtful speech belongs to their delight.

Then the sūrah names the source and character of the reward: جَزَٓاءً مِنْ رَبِّكَ عَطَٓاءً حِسَابًاۙ Punishment was “a fitting recompense”; this is recompense from your Lord, expressly named a gift. حِسَابًا describes a gift sufficient and abundant. The same reward fulfills His promise and expresses His generosity. It is not a payment that human beings can exact from Him.

The Lord who gives this reward is then named as رَبِّ السَّمٰوَاتِ وَالْاَرْضِ وَمَا بَيْنَهُمَاۙ الرَّحْمٰنِ, Lord of the heavens, the earth, and everything between them, the All-Merciful. Al-Furqān joins the splitting of the sky and the descent of angels to the declaration that true sovereignty on that Day belongs to the All-Merciful. Here the same divine name introduces the limit on every creature’s address: لَا يَمْلِكُونَ مِنْهُ خِطَابًاۙ No one can address Him on an authority of their own.

The Spirit and the angels stand arrayed: يَوْمَ يَقُومُ الرُّوحُ وَالْمَلٰٓئِكَةُ صَفًّاۜ Even these exalted creatures stand subject to His command. لَا يَتَكَلَّمُونَ اِلَّا مَنْ اَذِنَ لَهُ الرَّحْمٰنُ وَقَالَ صَوَابًا Speech requires permission from the All-Merciful and truth in what is said. Ṭā Hā likewise joins hushed voices before the All-Merciful to intercession that depends on His permission and approval. The repeated name الرَّحْمٰنُ presents that permission as an act of mercy.

ذٰلِكَ الْيَوْمُ الْحَقُّۚ That Day is real. The declaration answers the opening dispute: its coming is certain. That certainty is followed by an invitation: فَمَنْ شَٓاءَ اتَّخَذَ اِلٰى رَبِّه۪ مَاٰبًا Whoever wills may seek a return to his Lord through faith and obedience. Elsewhere the same invitation offers a path toward the Lord; here the path is named by its destination—return. The word has already named Hell as the transgressors’ return. The choice is not whether one will be gathered, but how one responds now to the warning of where one’s life is leading.

The final verse brings the warning close: اِنَّٓا اَنْذَرْنَاكُمْ عَذَابًا قَر۪يبًاۚ Its nearness gives urgency to what follows: يَوْمَ يَنْظُرُ الْمَرْءُ مَا قَدَّمَتْ يَدَاهُ Every person sees what his own hands sent ahead. Al-Ḥashr turns that future sight into a present duty: let each self look at what it has sent ahead for tomorrow. The reader is asked to look while there is still time to change how he lives.